iCare, Nub
by Mistress of Craziness
Summary: When your girlfriend is Sam, your perception of caring can become quite distorted. SEDDIE. Oneshot.


**Disclaimer: **Yeah, if I owned iCarly, I would be too busy swimming in my piles of cash to be writing mediocre stories.

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_iCare, Nub_

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In the three months they had been dating, Sam had never once told Freddie she cared about him.

Even when they admitted their hidden feelings for each other and initially began their relationship, Freddie had gone on and on about how beautiful she was, how he couldn't live without her, how much he cared about her. In response, Sam had told him to stop being so sappy, and roughly crushed her lips against his.

As lightheaded and thrilled as he was at the time, it still would have been nice for her to at least been a little more romantic; returned at least some of his sentiment.

Why was she so difficult? Why, even as they reached their three month anniversary, did she refuse to give him so much as an "I care about you"? These were the things Freddie pondered as he worked diligently in the iCarly studio, adding creative effects to their latest web show. He found his gaze lingering on the filmed blond a little longer than usual at times, and he felt a small pain in his chest as he gazed at her grinning features; what if she didn't care about him at all?

Freddie shook his head. Ridiculous. Sam Puckett, bully extraordinaire, didn't just date dorks for the thrill of it. Still, as he watched her effortlessly eat a whole melon in less than a minute, he couldn't shake the small amount of doubt scratching at the back of his head.

Suddenly, the door burst open, and Freddie turned just in time to see a hand fly right towards his face, and whack him squarely on the nose.

"Sup, Freddo?" his attacker asked, maneuvering around his work station and plopping down in a nearby bean bag. Freddie scowled and rubbed at his now sore nose, glaring down at the aggressive blond who was currently clouding his thoughts.

"Was that really necessary?"

"I don't know. Is your face necessary?" she retorted, smirking. Freddie sighed and rolled his eyes. That was another thing about Sam Freddie found frustrating; even as her boyfriend, he was still considered her target. He guessed old habits died hard, especially for her.

"Freddie, I'm hungry," she suddenly began whining, rubbing her stomach. "Be a good boy-toy, and go get me some ham."

Freddie gaped at her, about to argue that she was just downstairs and couldn't she see he was busy. Yet when he looked up her--her head pulled back, her hair spilled out over the floor, her eyes snapped shut and her mouth grumbling for food--something inside of him stopped himself from forming the words. Instead, a spark of determination flashed in his eyes as he boldly blurted out, "I care about you, Sam."

Sam instantly brought her head back up, and looked over at him with knitted eyebrows, confusion clearly written on her face. "Okay...?" she replied slowly.

"Well... don't you have something to say?" he asked hopefully.

"Umm... go get me some food or I'll break your legs?"

"Whatever," Freddie scoffed, ignoring her empty threats and turning back to his laptop. A few heartbeats later, Sam was standing directly in front of him, her eyes narrowed and her arms folded across her chest.

"Alright, Benson, what's up?"

"Nothing," Freddie mumbled bitterly, keeping his focus on the screen. Suddenly, Sam forcefully brought her hand down onto his computer, causing it to slam shut on his fingers. "_Ah!_"

"Don't tell Mama it's just nothing," she growled. "Now what's the matter?"

"It's stupid," he mumbled, wiggling his digits to make sure they all still worked properly. Fortunately, besides a dull pain, there seemed to be no serious damage done.

"Yeah, it probably is, but it's obviously bothering you, so spill."

Freddie looked up at her, her expression and stance clearly telling him she wasn't planning on dropping it until he told her. She'd beat it out of him one way for another, and, knowing her, that probably meant literally.

Freddie sighed, "Alright, _fine_." He hesitated for a second, averting his eyes to the dusty ground before sputtering out, "I-I just wish... _sometimes_... you'd tell me you care about me...."

"Why?" Sam asked, sounding genuinely perplexed.

Freddie turned back up to her, shocked and upset. "'_Why'? _What do you mean 'why'? Why do I always tell you how much I care about you, yet you never say it back? Why, instead of compliments and kisses, do I get insults and bruises? Why do I have to stand here, questioning to myself if my own girlfriend... even _likes _me?"

Through his outburst, Freddie's voice had risen with confidence, but he found himself quietly saying the last part with a small frown and glancing back down at his worn shoes. Silence engulfed the pair for a few prolonged seconds, and when Freddie finally got to courage to look back up at her, her expression was blank yet he swear he could see the smallest amounts of fear and sorrow flickering in her blue eyes.

"Are you breaking up with me?" she whispered.

Freddie did a double take. "What? _No!_ No, of course not."

Then the impossible happened: Sam sniffed. But not a "oh, I have a cold" sniff; a "I am about to cry" sniff. Freddie's mouth opened and closed like a total idiot; he was quite certain Hell had just officially frozen over.

"What?" Sam hissed, frantically wiping at her eyes. "Don't look at me like that, dork."

"A-are you okay?" he stuttered. He slightly lifted his arm for a second to grasp her shoulder before deciding against it and bringing it back down to his side limply; what was he suppose to do? Any normal person would want to be comforted in this type of situation, but that was the main problem: Sam wasn't a normal person.

Sam took in a shaky breath, and only spoke again when she seemed composed and it didn't look like she was going to start crying. "Look," she started, obviously ignoring his question, "I... I know, okay?"

"Know what?"

Sam let out an frustrated growl, throwing her arms in the air, "Sweet chizz, are you really that _dense_? Do you really think I'm not aware that I've never told you I care about you? That I never compliment you when you're wearing a shirt I like, or show appreciation when you bring me a flower, or how I punch you when you try to give me a hug?

"I... I'm not like most girls, Freddie. I'm _not _Carly! I don't know how to act in a serious relationship, so I express my feelings the only way I know how with you: through belittling you. It's not that I don't care about you though. It's never that...."

"I... Sam... I don't know, it's just kind of hard to believe when you're being constantly shoved into lockers, or put down all the time, or humiliated when people find out you sleep with a night light--"

"Okay," Sam hastily interrupted, "but who always runs to get you an ice pack when they've realized they shoved you a little too hard and regret it? Or constantly tries to change the subject when they've realized they shouldn't have said something they didn't even mean? Or beat up the people who started harassing you after they've realized they, once again, went too far...?

"I told you, Freddie, I show my feelings differently than most people. I'm not the sensitive-type; I can't be all mushy-gushy without feeling awkward and a little queasy. You of all people should know this...."

Freddie watched Sam shuffle her feet and yank nervously at her shirt. This was definitely the most serious conversation he had ever had with her, even more so than the whole "first kiss" fiasco. Sam wasn't the type of person to lay her heart out on the table, and here she was, doing just that. He of all people _should _know this was uncomfortable and out of her element... just like blatantly telling him she cared about him.

"But," Sam continued, breaking his train of thought, "if it would make you feel better, here goes."

Sam suddenly strolled around Freddie's cart, and wasted no time in filling the gap between them by stepping forward and wrapping her arms around his neck. Freddie stood still like a stone statue, staring wide-eyed at her unreadable expression, having to remind himself to breathe.

"Now I'm only going to say this once, so you better listen up," she explained roughly. Taking in a sharp breath, she muttered, "I care about you... _nub_."

They locked eyes, and it was as if time around them stood still. Freddie was shocked; she had just said what he had been dying to hear her say ever since he realized he had feelings for her. But it wasn't the actual words that surprised him. No, it was the fact that he felt no different hearing her say them out loud. Because after registering all that she had said... he knew, in her own, Sam-ish way, she had always tried to tell him this fact.

Freddie's lips spread into a sly smile as he responded with, "You don't have to remind me, Puckett."

Sam furrowed her eyebrows in bewilderment, but, after a few moments, something seemed to click in her brain and her typical mischievous smirk graced her features. She swooped in to capture his mouth with her's for a quick kiss, then pulled away completely.

"Okay, now that you're done acting like the girlfriend in this messed up thing we call a relationship," Sam said, returning to her usual self, "go make yourself useful and get me some ham. Actually, make it a ham sandwich. Actually... make it two."

"Go get it yourself," Freddie said nonchalantly, reopening his laptop. Suddenly, a shooting pain shot through his leg, and he found himself colliding with the floor.

Sam stuck to her word after that, and never outright said she cared about him ever again. Even when she bitterly paid for the movie tickets when he forgot his wallet, or danced with him at prom even though she really didn't want to, but he really did. Even when he presented her with a marriage proposal, and all he got was a: "Took you long enough to man-up, Freddork." Even when she named their first son "Mark" after his dad, despite her extreme distaste for the name, she didn't say it.

But honestly, she didn't have to. Freddie had been a complete fool then to have even slightly doubted her.

Because when Sam Puckett kicks you so hard in the shin that you fall over, only to help you back up to your feet a few seconds later and tells you to stop being such a wimp, well... if that wasn't a sign of caring, he didn't know what the hell caring was.

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**A/N: **Ta-da! A Seddie oneshot. Seriously, they're far more easier than chapter stories, lol. But anyway, this kind of just randomly sprang to mind, and I sort of just rolled with it (like I tend to do with all my stories). And since I just updated iWAAT, I figured it would be okay to use a little bit of my time in writing it. So yeah, please read and review, and tell me what you think. I love hearing feedback, good and bad. :)


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